


fickle winds, they shift away

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: F/M, One Night Stand, richie's a sad baby, who remembers eddie even when he can't remember eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Prompt:Richie who has one night stands with women, trying to ward off his gay thoughts. Maybe him exclusively fucking them from behind or anally or getting pegged, etc so he can pretend they are men in the heat of the moment. It doesn’t have to be too explicit if you don’t want to write that part.Bonus points if he seeks out women who bear a resemblance to Eddie, if he says Eddies name, etc. (Extra bonus points if he eventually comes out and confesses to Eddie)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	fickle winds, they shift away

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Richie who has one night stands with women, trying to ward off his gay thoughts. Maybe him exclusively fucking them from behind or anally or getting pegged, etc so he can pretend they are men in the heat of the moment. It doesn’t have to be too explicit if you don’t want to write that part.
> 
> Bonus points if he seeks out women who bear a resemblance to Eddie, if he says Eddies name, etc. (Extra bonus points if he eventually comes out and confesses to Eddie)

She's short and her hair is brown and her jaw has a stubborn set to it. She's cuter than she is pretty but Richie doesn't really give much of a fuck about her looks when he's got two hands full of tit and his cock is buried between her legs, fucking into the wet heat of her. 

She's moaning and she must just like cock, he thinks, because he's pretty sure the drunken way he's fucking her right now isn't doing much for her. He'd like to - he'd like to be that guy. Generous, good in bed. He can be, when he really applies himself. 

He's just not applying himself right now. He's a dick with a mission right now, his cock is a heat seeking missile that just wants to fucking explode. To explode fuck. To, to, something. Richie doesn't know. Richie doesn't know anything. 

Except that this woman is a celebrity-fucker who is happy to get dicked down by a four-time SNL host with a couple of Netflix specials under his best. 

He pulls out and turns her around. She goes, bracing her hands on the wall and sticking her ass out. He rubs his hands appreciatively down her sides and pretends the curve of her hips does something for him. 

It's better like this, the way his pelvis slaps against her ass on every stroke in. He closes his eyes and that's even better - he's transported somewhere else. She's panting now and it sounds lewd and real and maybe it's pure luck but he feels a little less guilty that this is hitting the spot for her. 

"Yeah," she whines. 

"Don't talk," he mumbles. It makes him the biggest asshole in the world but he doesn't care. He's close, feeling the tempting urge to orgasm building up, and he needs to sink back into what he always does when he's about to nut inside some woman he won't remember a week from now. 

He closes his eyes and sees a face he can't describe. Hands he can't remember. A voice that feels like a tickle of a memory, like smoke blowing past the doorway of his memory. 

But in the moment of orgasm, there's always something - a split second of pure comprehension gone before he can even process in but in that moment, balls drawn up tight and come pumping through him, he feels like it all makes sense. 

(In that moment, there's Eddie's face and Eddie's hands and years of teenage want. In his mind Eddie has no name and no face and no voice he doesn't understand where any of it comes from, except for that smothered part of him that does.) 

She doesn't come, but she moans it out like she is while he's still draining the last of his balls inside of the condom. The pleasure is gone just as fast as the sensation of tacky sweat on the back of his neck and drying saliva on his balls from the blowjob she gave him sets in. 

"That was amazing," she gushes, but he's already plastering on a smile as fake as her orgasm. "You still have my number, right?" 

"Sure do," he says. 

He threw the napkin away at the bar. He'll never call her. She might get pissy and tweet about the one night (one hour) stand, but maybe he'll get lucky and she won't. 

He doesn't really care anyway. He tugs the condom off and ties it, then tosses it in the hotel room trash can. It hangs off the side and he leaves it there as he pulls his jeans back up. He'll leave a benjamin for the tip. He 's a disgusting human being, and those that put up with it deserve to be paid well. 

(Disgusting. He's disgusting. 

There's that other voice, the one of his nightmares instead of his dreams.) 

"Enjoy the room," he says. "Take a shower. Order room service. Whatever you want." 

"Sure," she says, clearly disappointed that he isn't staying but Richie thanks his lucky stars because she doesn't really argue it. 

"This was good," he says, clearing his throat. Leaving is always the awkward part. 

But she just smiles. "Yeah," she says. She steps forward, and he knows what she wants. 

He can give her that, at least. He steps forward and cups her face, meeting her opened mouth with his own. She has thin lips and he likes that. She's small all over, small stature and small bones and he could just wrap her right up in him if he wanted to. He doesn't want to, but his arms twitch forward anyway before he catches himself and they stay right at his side. 

When he pulls back, the yearning in his chest has solidified into something he needs to drink away again.


End file.
